


Farther than the Universe

by tamagochie



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Music, Romance, Vietnam War, decade, fan fiction, harry styles fan fiction, one direction - Freeform, ongoing, the 70s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25445770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamagochie/pseuds/tamagochie
Summary: After the sudden loss of her father, Emilia is left to anchor the weight of her mother's despair. In the midst of planning a funeral, steadying her mother's emotions, and digesting her own personal grievances, Emilia turns to cleaning and wandering soul of her dead father for comfort.However, when she soon stumbles upon an old box carries the memories of another life her mother lived, she begins to learn her father wasn't her mother's great love.Rummaging through old band shirts, faded protest posters, chipped yellow sunglasses, and dusty photographs of a younger version of her mom and a curly haired boy, Emilia takes a peak during the summer her mother ran away from home and fell in love with a English boy in New York.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s), Niall Horan/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	1. Early in the Mourning

**Author's Note:**

> This story is very important to me. It's taken me three years to outline it, write out, and post it. My inspiration for writing this came from Mamma Mia and Across the Universe, so if one of the two are familiar to you, you'll see a couple of themes from the movies. 
> 
> It'll be a bit of a slow burn through the first few chapters, but I promise, it'll get better.

_**Emilia;Present Day** _

Emilia had always planned to come home for her parents' anniversary. It was supposed to be her surprise gift. She worked overtime, bustling into the loneliest hours of the night when everyone else went home. For the last two weeks, her only company were the Beatles subtly playing in the background, acting as a replacement for office chatter; and the glimmer of the moonlight reflecting against every other shiny object on her desk.

However, the universe had a different kind of surprise in mind for her family; because when her feet had finally gravitated back down to her hometown's soil, she gets a phone call from her mom about her dad, and how his heart had chosen their day out of all days to finally stop beating.

Lightning strikes the earth ever so violently as the thunder cries out in anguish. The rain starts to pour heavily; it's as if the universe is mourning on the behalf of Emilia and her mom's loss. Though it usually does rain here in Ashland, Oregon, that day was a specific kind of grey. The kind of grey that weighs down on your shoulders and sends you off into the corner of your bed.

And that's exactly what Emilia's mom had done.

It had been three days since then. Three days since the sudden passing of Emilia's father. Three days since the storm had terrorized the people of Ashland, and continued to do so.

Emilia would like to believe that she's in a much better state than she was three days ago, but the universe would know that she had been lying, and she worries if she dare say a lie, she'd be punished for it. So instead, Emilia gives herself a moment to breathe, letting go of all the times she had to hold her breaths for her mom. She rests her head in the dip of the palm of her hand, the other is occupied; holding her favorite mug filled coffee and the tiniest shot of tequila—her mourning mix.

Her jaded brown eyes fixate on the rhythm of the raindrops colliding against the glass. She listens intently to howling of the wind echoing in her ears. The air surrounding the kitchen is bitter; the atmosphere is as dead and lonesome. It's the perfect weather for the mourning period, Emilia thinks. Emilia relieves an exasperated sigh as she sets her cup on the counter. She unlocks her phone, searching for her husband's name through the messages, but nothing. Her chest rises and falls in disappointment.

Not a single phone call, not even a message.

 _Asshat_ , she internally grits. Her nails claws into the granite counter, her blood boiling; but she's not surprised. She's not surprised, with the state of her marriage had been lately. It's not like the universe had sent her a blessing to begin with. This was another punishment for not listening.

Emilia dismisses it, sliding her phone to the side. She grabs the breakfast tray she prepared and heads to her mom's bedroom. She trudges up the stairs, the weight of her body becoming unbearably heavier with each step.

There's something about her going to her mom's room that causes her heart to sink a little deeper.

She pictures her mom firmly holding onto her dad's old tie-dye shirt, resting it just beneath her nose in hopes to at least keep the scent of him alive if not the rest of him. She'll find her mom's swollen red eyes distantly watching the TV. The bright screen flashing, enveloping her mom from the darkness in the room. It had been her only source of light for the last three days.

Emilia swallow's thickly once she finds herself standing before her mom's bedroom door; it's slightly left ajar. The TV's LED lights filtering through the crack; she can hear the Brady Bunch theme vaguely playing in the background. One deep inhale, and Emilia lightly kicks the door open; and she finds her mom exactly as she had imagined her to be. She frowns as she walks over to her mom who looks like she hadn't showered yet. Her greasy blonde hair sticking to her dried porcelain skin.

"Morning, mom," She tries to add a little color in her greeting, but her mom doesn't respond and she doesn't expect her to. She walks over to the opposite side of the bed, placing the tray beside her mom. "I think you should eat today." No reply. Emilia clears her throat, anxiousness climbing up from the deepest parts of her stomach.

She's scared, and though she understands the phases of grief, she worries her mother would stay like this forever while time continued on without her; because that's what times does, it continues to swim, unbothered by the events above the water and below it.

"I made you eggs and bacon," She says, struggling to make conversation. She's growing more and more desperate for her mom to notice her or at least say something. A part of her wanted to throw the tray at her mom, but the greater part of her, the part that came from her mom, refrained her from doing so and told her to be patient because the loss wasn't just about her, but mostly about her mom. "I'll leave you to your breakfast, but please eat something."

Her sudden need to cry was bubbling over to the surface as she watches her mom lay completely still. If it wasn't for her blinking, Emilia would have thought her mom was dead too. It took the remaining energy she had to swallow it. To stop her mom from seeing her break down; but it's not like her mom had taken any notice to her at all.

Emilia dips down to her mom, kissing her forehead before she leaves. At least she still smells the same, she thinks to herself. Her lavender scent is the only thing that assures her that her mom is still very much alive. She goes back down to the kitchen, returning to the howling wind and the pitter patter sound of raindrops kissing the windows. She feels alone again, and she begins to cry.

They tell you the pain of losing a parent, but they never warn you the risk of losing the one that's still here. The one that's still alive, but might as well not be because the treacherous waves of loss have swallowed them whole, and you're left to be your own anchor.

Emilia chooses cleaning as her way of coping for the day. Even if there isn't any dust left to sweep off the wooden floors, and wipe off the counter, tables, and shelves; but she pretends there are. She pretends for her sake, so at least she can stop crying. In moments like this, she wishes she wasn't an only child, so at least she'd have someone to depend on.

She spends twenty minutes cleaning the kitchen and eventually moves on to the living room before she notices the old record player sitting in the corner of the room. She walks over and sees a vinyl disk just waiting to be played; it's the Bellamy Brothers. By the looks of it, it wasn't set up too long ago. Probably on the day of her dad's death.

Emilia can't help but think it was the vinyl record her dad had listened to. A part of her heart cracks, and her knees once again feel the burden of carrying the rest of her body's weight. Reluctantly, she plays it; and soon enough it isn't so lonely anymore. She forgets it's raining, and just for a moment, her dad isn't dead. In this moment, if she were to walk over to the garage door and open it, she'd find her dad fumbling with car parts, his fingers stained with grease and he'd be smiling at her as he usually would.

_Just let your love flow like a mountain stream_

_And let your love grow with the smallest of dreams_

_And let your love show, and you'll know what I mean._

Emilia had sunk deep into her daydreaming to have noticed her mom standing at the foot of the stairs. It's isn't until she speaks that she's pulled back to reality, twisting her head to the direction of the disembodied voice to find her mom.

"I-I thought he was here..." Her mom's voice comes out rough and breathy as if she had been running, her words struggling to leave her dried lips. There's hope kindling in her mom's eyes just for a split second, but then she remembers there's nothing to be hopeful for, and it's gone again. "I-I... I could've sworn I h-heard him singing..."

Even at her worst, her mom is still beautiful. With her long blonde hair greased into a bun, strands hanging on the sides and framing her face, she's still beautiful. Emilia's gaze travels to her mother's hand, still tightly gripping her dad's shirt.

"Sorry," Emilia is stiff and feels the need to be careful like a hunter in the wild, hoping not to scare off the animal before him. She doesn't want her mom retreating back to her bedroom, especially since this is the most she's moved. "I just thought to play it while I cleaned. It..uh...felt a little too quiet down here." Her mom nods, taking in her daughter's words slowly.

She feels weak again and Emilia notices her mom's inability to continue standing there, so she drops her rag and swiftly moves over to her mom. "Thank you." She says, and leans onto her daughter for support.

"Where'd you wanna go, mom?" "I think it's time I take a shower, Em." She jokes, trying to manage a smile for her.

"Help me to the bathroom, would you?" Emilia nods and helps her mom up the stairs.


	2. Growing Pains

**Lucy; Present Day**

Wiping off the fog from the bathroom mirror, Lucy meets a weary, blurred version of herself staring back at her. Time has kissed her skin with frown lines and wrinkles. Her hair, even when wet has no longer been graced by the light of the sun; the natural blonde she's been blessed with has faded. Her eyes no longer carrying the last glimmer of hope in her soft hazel eyes faded. 

Lucy endured a lot for the most part of her life. One might even say too much. She had experienced enough trauma to for her to assume the universe didn't love her enough because there was nothing in her life the universe has left untouched when it came to spoiling the good things in her life.

It wasn't hard for Lucy to be buried beneath weight of her emotions, even with everything that's surpassed her. She always held hope close to her heart, completely believing it was the key to her survival. So, when her hope fails her, disappointment quickly rises within her like the late night tides rushing closer to the shore.

So, when she loses her husband to the universe, the tides roll closer to home and she finally lets it drag her off the shore. She sunk to the bottom of the ocean, her depression weighing her down, completely leaving her daughter behind; and the guilt sets in.

Like steam, it rises from the deepest pit of her stomach all the way into her throat as she realizes she's left her daughter behind to fend for herself. Her daughter taking up the role as her personal caregiver; feeding her, reminding her to take her meds, sometimes wiping her down with a wet rag because Lucy had lost any motivation to take a shower.

Even from the depths of the dirt she buried her under, Lucy can still hear her mother's taunting voice, mocking her for being less of a mother she could ever be.

Lucy swallows thickly, closing her eyes to clear her head and rid her thoughts of her mother. _Pull yourself together, Lucy._

In this moment, in this small pocket of time, she imagines herself as a buoy because up until this very moment, she was one. She's a buoy that can withstand harsh, unexpected storms. She lets herself believe she's strong enough to protect her daughter from being caught in the damage of the storm. That she'll be better from this point on.

_The loss isn't just about you, it's also about her._

Lucy moves in a swift yet careful motion, drying herself off before getting into the fresh clothes her daughter had left her on the wicker basket.

When she steps out of the bathroom, she's greeted by the warmth of her home, fog emitting behind her. The soles of her feet are met with soft kisses from the carpet as she walks over to her bedroom. She sees the breakfast tray she left untouched, so she picks it up and decides to bring it downstairs and eat it where Emilia is closest to her.

 _We're going to start this day differently,_ she thinks to herself, not minding that it was already midday.

She steadily moves down the stairs, doing her best to balance the tray in her hands. She finds a couple of old boxes sprawled in the living room, her daughter rummaging through what seems to be vinyl records her husband had stored in the attic due to the lack of space in the antique cabinet he had bought some time ago.

"Honey..." Lucy's voice wanders as far as her eyes take her. Her voice comes out raspy from all the times she chose to keep quiet in the past couple of days. Emilia twists her attention to her mom. Once again, she's startled to find her anywhere but in her bed. "What's this about?"

Emilia blinks her eyes, still dumbfounded, taking in the image of her mom looking better than she had been. She no longer looked like a ghost, but someone who wanted to be alive. She watches her as Lucy moves around the couch, taking a spot behind her where she's crouched on the floor.

"It's uhm," Emilia is careful, careful like the hunters she watches on Animal Planet. How they tip toe around their prey, holding their breaths to be sure not to scare it off. 

She gawks at her mother, minding the volume of her voice in fear that it would cause her mom to retreat back into her room. "It's just uhh, a bunch of records dad hid in the attic. I couldn't find the rest of his stash, so I went up and dug around. I was about to find this though," She raises an old 10cc vinyl record; the color from the album worn out. "I hope its okay."

Lucy waves her off, softly smiling. "Don't worry about it. It's been collecting dust anyway."

Emilia nods, turning back to the box before her. There's a bit of awkward tension in the room, and it's clear to Lucy that it's her fault.

Once again, she imagines herself as a buoy, the waves are picking up, but she stands proud and unshaken.

It takes her a while; opening her lips to speak, but closing it again. She'll sweep the tip over her tongue across her lips, frantic and anxious; all the while picturing herself as the steady buoy.

"I-I'm sorry..." Her sudden apology catches Emilia off guard, their eyes meeting when she turns around. Lucy makes it a point to keep the eye contact. "I'm sorry for abandoning you these past few days, and making you feel like you were alone." Emilia's mouth gapes open to speak, but Lucy raises her hand to stop her. She takes a deep breath before speaking again, trying to stop the sharp pain rising in her chest. "I made this about me. I made this about what _I_ had lost, but honey, y-you lost someone too. I-I'...I should've..."

Lucy's lips quiver in anger, frustrated at herself, at the universe, at this moment, and her inability to find the right words.

She swallows thickly, unable to keep herself at bay. " _I'm_ the mom." She whispers, ceasing herself from being consumed by her desperate need to cry again. "I didn't mean to leave the way I did. I-I never m-meant... to... leave you."

Her chest heaves, and she surrenders herself to her tears as she pushes herself off the couch and onto ground, embracing her. "I see you, I do." Lucy whispers, her daughter beginning to quietly cry into the material of her sweater. "I love you,"

Lucy continuous the string of apologies, whispering it into her daughter ear as presses her lips against the side of her head. Her hand resting onto the back of her head, holding her the way she did when Emilia was a mere newborn. And for the first time, Emilia breaks her silence and cries out to her mom.

Time doesn't stop for them and their heartfelt moment, but instead it stretches itself through the passing seconds, creating an infinite loop for them to stay in until they slip away from each other.

Emilia clings onto the hold of her mother, embracing her tightly in hopes to close any possible space between them. Lucy can smell her daughter's shampoo, the usual scent of her body spray fills her lungs. Her own wet hair sticks to the side of Emilia's cheek.

"I love you, mom," Emilia gasps between her sobs, digging her fingers into the wool of her mom's sweater.

"I love you, too."   
  



	3. A Scum's Wish

**Emilia;** **_Present day_ **

Emilia never prayed a single prayer in her life nor did she ever entertain the idea of a "higher being" watching over her and pulling all the strings behind the curtain. Because up until recently, life had always been substantially kind to her.

And she believed that it liked her more than anyone else.

Growing up, she had lived in a home, under a roof that never caved into the weight of a storm. She had slept in a room she didn't have to share with anyone else except for the crickets who sang her to sleep.

She had a dad who smiled with his eyes and whistled while he worked. She has a mom who has hair holds the sunlight captive; and a heart that beats for anyone else but her own. Two beautiful souls who reminded her at every waking moment that she is loved and will always be loved. So when the time came for it, she'd be able to love in return.

Needless to say, life never brought her to her knees. At least not long enough to leave bruises. It always handed her its best cards, but would throw in a wild one every now and then to humble her.

Again, that was up until recent events.

With her hands tightly clasped together, Emilia sinks to the floor. Her nails carve mini crescent moons deep into her skin as she chews on her bottom lip, Emilia tries to muster the right words to say to whoever in the universe that's bothered enough to listen to her.

Despite the moment Emilia shared with her mom, it didn't cancel out the bad days that still awaits her. Bad days that did indeed keep her on her knees and leave bruises that would most definitely last for weeks.

During the fifth day of mourning, Emilia had received a call telling her she had just been let go from work. They sing her songs of sorrow and heartily apologize for the wrong timing. They told her it was because of the company's inability to continue paying her due to budget cuts, but she knew that it was their nicest way to tell her that out of all the names on the list of "most important employees", Emilia's was the least.

And because the women in Emilia's family tend to be proud, she spares her mom the news and keeps her breaths to herself, knowing it wouldn't be any helpful if she told her nor would there be any use to reach out to a husband she's better off divorced to.

But that alone is a separate and _different_ kind of pain Emilia rather not unravel.

Well, at least not today.

"I—Well, I've never really done this before." Her eyes slowly train up the floral wallpaper of her bedroom as she ponders, licking her lips in succession as she wonders if there's any point to what she's doing. If there's anyone that's listening at all, but she can't deny the sense of ease in her chest. So, to lessen the feeling that she's a complete idiot, an idea comes to mind and instead she pretends like she's talking to her dad.

"A lot's happened since you... _left_..." She swallows thickly and makes a conscious move to ignore the reality of where her dad really is, and the fact that he'll never be able to come home; and she'll never get to be enveloped in his love when she needs it most.

Drawing a deep breath, she starts again. "You always praised mom for being so strong, but honestly, I don't think she's strong enough to continue without you... She'll start the morning off hopeful, looking forward to the rest of the day with all these goals and plans in mind; but then halfway through, she'll run out of things to keep her numb and she'll snowball into the truth that you're no longer here. And she'll let the rest of the day blend into one endless, depressing loop."

As word Emilia lets slip past her lips, breathing begins to feel less and less like an unnecessary push. And just for a moment, she can see her dad sitting before her with a knee raised against his chest burly and his scruffy chin resting on top. His bright brown eyes looking into her own as he listens intently.

As he always did.

"On top of that, I lost my job. The one thing I thought would be left untouched in this whole shit storm has been swept away as well. But knowing you, you'll probably tell me something like, ' _Maybe this is a purposeful shit storm given to you by life to shift you towards something better.'_ You always had something to say."

Emilia's dad was a man of colorful, yet odd choice of words. Though it may be off putting to normal people, or to what her father used to refer them as, "uncultured dimwits", his words held meaning. More meaning than any sign the universe could ever send her.

Emilia can even hear her dad's lilting Minnesota accent as she imagines all the possible one-liner wisdom he could say her right now. She smiles at the memory of it because she realizes there are more ways her dad can still continue to exist in her life other than the material things he's left behind.

"Look," She sighs, wearily. "You're not here anymore, and usually you're the one I go to when things fall apart. So, you owe me this one. Please send me help, because I can't keep going on my own, especially with mom being the way she is right now."

Emilia doesn't know whether her dad was really listening, or maybe it's a mere coincidence when the doorbell rings the moment she finishes her sentence.

Tilting her head to the side, she squints her eyes, still staring at the wall as if her dad's face would show in the floral art. There's a doubt in her, but also a mixture of assurance when she tries to fathom what's just happened.

The doorbell rings once more and she slowing springs to her feet, realizing she had cut off the blood flow from her legs from sitting on her knees.

Leaving her bedroom, Emilia follows the string of laughter downs to find her Aunts, Frankie and Donna, wrapping their arms around her mom, smothering her in their affection.

And there it is, her opening. She can take a deeper breath and for the first time since her dad's death she doesn't have to feel guilty doing so.

With a heart now filled by joy, her Aunt Frankie trains her bright blue eyes on Emilia. She smiles broadly, her face gleaming as she opens her arms to Emilia.

"Well, I'll be _damned_ ," Frankie sighs, amazed at the sight of her goddaughter. Emilia crouches to her for a hug; she smells of lemons and cheap soap. She always had a peculiar scent. It was never consistent, but always managed to stand out Emilia whenever she came to visit. "Do you ever stop growing?"

"You're just shrinking," Donna chimes, pressing her lips against Emilia's cheek to steal a quick kiss. "But you a _re_ blooming. My god, you've gotten much prettier since the last time I saw you."

Smothered. Emilia feels smothered, but lets it pass because she hasn't felt this much affection since she got here, so she lets herself drown in the stream of compliments and warmth of her godmothers' love.

Frankie squeezes the side of Emilia's arms when she takes a step back. Pouting her lips just slightly, she lets out a sigh. "God, I've missed you. You really have grown, you know." Her aunt's words flow from her lips swimmingly in a calm tone. Taking Emilia's cheek in the palm of her hand, her lips fall into line. "I see that life has not been kind to you, now, has it?"

Hesitantly, Emilia shakes her head all the while warding off the thumping in her chest. Her glistening eyes warn Frankie not to push it.

"You can tell me more a little later," She winks before letting Emilia say another word, turning to Lucy.

Offering to take her Aunts' things to their room, Emilia leaves the trio be. With whatever upper body strength she's developed in the last couple of days, she heaves their luggage up the stairs.

Breathless, she arrives atop the staircase and stalks towards their respective rooms, leaving their things by the door because if she were to be honest, she doesn't have any more physical strength to lug it just a few steps more.

Swiftly, she moves down the stairs and follows the trail of laughter to the kitchen.

The atmosphere dims to lighter mood. For the first time since she arrived, her mother heartily laughs. The kind of laugh that has your rib cage bending into itself, forcing your heart to push back in fear it might just suddenly pop.

The kind laugh that sounds like you've decided to continue living.

Emilia takes the space beside her Aunt Frankie and snakes a hold around her arm. She listens to their bantering, her heart as well as her mind are put to ease.

 _Thank you, dad._ Emilia whispers a thought to herself as she watches from across the little island; her Aunt Donna slyly walking over to the cabinets and pulls the wine off the top shelf. Smiling coyly, she swifts wine glasses off the table and places it at the center of the island.

Her Aunt Frankie looks at her in disdain. "I don't think Lucy should be drinking right now..."

"Please, it's exactly what our sad lil girl needs." Donna scoffs, rolling her eyes. "She just lost her husband, what else should be doing? Talk about her feelings? _Bitch,_ she _should_ be drinking."

"Well, then, give me the damn glass."

"I thought you didn't want to drink?"

"I said Lucy shouldn't be drinking. I didn't say I wouldn't."

Lucy snorts, caging her laughter into the palm of her hand, but there's no use. The sign of joy has already presented itself to Emilia like a glimmering light of hope. 


End file.
